Camping
by hungrywhovianpotterhead
Summary: A camping trip with Greg, a walk in the woods, and a man in a dirty coat holding a small woodland animal, and here John thought this camping trip would help take his mind off of Sherlock
1. Chapter 1

**A/N so me and Whovian 1.0 spent Friday night coming up with headcannon, and we each took one, this is the one I took. It's called camping and it takes place before Empty Hearse and in the place of. It was really fun to write, and I hope it's as fun to read. If you want to check out Whovian's headcannon fic, it's called Deductions and Rewards and you can read it here s/10494316/1/Deductions-with-Rewards**

**Beta'd by: Whovian 1.0**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. Yet.**

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Leaves crumble beneath John's feet, he still didn't understand why Greg made him come out here with him. The woods were not John Watson's element. At least not anymore.

A little ways away Greg was setting up one of the two tents he had brought with them, whistling softly as he wrestled with the poles. John looked around, examining the clearing that Greg had chosen, trying to deduce what kind of people had used the site before.

His disdain for the place wasn't really because it was a bad place, because really it wasn't, it was peaceful, a place where your thoughts had nothing to distract them from the things you didn't want to think about, and really John didn't want that, but who knew maybe the fresh air would do him good, maybe he would even enjoy it out here.

"You know." Greg said, pulling John out of his thoughts, "You could help. It wouldn't kill you."

John shook his head, not really wanting to help, "Why?" he asked, his voice lighter than it had been in months, "Sherlock wouldn't." He replied, smiling at his wit.

Greg sighed, "You know John. Sherlock is the whole reason I brought you out here. You were wasting away in that flat alone. I'm doing you a favor!"

John shrugged, not really agreeing with Greg, "You know. It wasn't that bad! I just lost my friend, so I was taking a couple of days off work!" he said.

"Three months John, not a few days, three months." Greg said before hammering a stake into the ground.

John only waved away Greg's comment, he really didn't think it had been that long… but no matter. He was there, the air was clear. Might as well make the most of it.

"I'm going to take a walk." He declared pushing off of the lorry that he and Greg had driven up in.

"Oh sure, and leave me with all the work." Greg grumbled, making no move to actually stop John. "Be back before dark!"

John ignored him. "And bring back some fire wood!"

John waved a hand acknowledging his request.

The woods really were nice, a gentle breeze making that warmth of the day more bearable, even with it he was glad he had worn a t-shirt instead of his usual button ups or sweaters.

Behind him he thought he heard a branch snap. He whirled just in time to watch as a dark shape disappeared behind a tree. He started charging towards it, knowing the shape of a person when he saw it, "Who's there?" he called, reaching the tree and looking behind it, and seeing nothing, he looked around hoping to catch sight of the dark human shape.

Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair, his mind must be playing tricks on him.

He turned away from the tree, and headed back to the path, maybe he just needed to clear his head, maybe he had been cooped up in the flat to long…

"No. I don't think he did see us." Whispered a voice behind him. John whirled, it was a deep voice, and it came from the same direction as he had seen the shadow disappear in.

"Okay, seriously, who's there?" he started walking towards the tree, this time noticing a slope that led down into a ravine, at the bottom someone knelt by a small stream, stooped over something small and furry, John was just about to call out to the person, when his foot slipped on the damp leaves on the ground and he went sliding down the hill, fingers scrabbling at the dirt as he slid down, his clothes gathering mud as he went, before he came to a halt at the bottom, he sighed looking down at his clothes in disgust, before looking up at the person, clearly a man, scraggly black hair, with clumps of dirt sticking out of it, he was tall shoulders broad, he could tell even though they were covered in an unseasonable coat, and a scarf was tied around his neck. In a moment John realized who he was looking at, his jaw dropped, "Sh-Sherlock?"

Sherlock pulled back looking at the small furry thing in his hands in shock, it was then that John realized it was a hedgehog. Sherlock was alive, and holding a hedgehog. "Jawn? Amazing. First time one of you talked before." He remarked holding the hedgehog up to his face, inspecting it, trying to figure out how it talked.

"Sherlock! It wasn't the hedgehog." John said, surprised at the exasperation in his voice, he slipped back into old habits quickly he thought.

"What are you talking about? You're the only one here."

"Are you serious?" John asked, not really expecting an answer, "Sherlock, it was me."

"Well clearly Jawn, you and I are the only ones here."

"Behind you Sherlock."

"Why Jawn-" Sherlock looked up, "John?"

"Yes Sherlock."

"Shit." Sherlock said, scratching his face, while one hand still held the hedgehog, looking shocked, "you weren't supposed to see me."

"Sherlock. Why are you holding a hedgehog?"

"ummm… it's my pet?" he said, not moving from where he knelt.

John laughed, unable to conceal the humor of it all, and the absurdity, "I never knew you had a pet hedgehog!" he said, climbing to his feet, and walking over, "can I hold it?" he asked standing over Sherlock.

Sherlock held out the hedgehog and John took it, as Sherlock got to his own feet, "Well honestly John, there's a lot of things you don't know about me. Like, for instance. You didn't know I was alive either." He said.

John held the hedgehog in one hand, while with the other he punched Sherlock squarely in the nose.

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**so there was some random sillyness, I hope you liked it :) **

**please review**

**Deductions for all of my brilliantly fantastic readers, until next time. Allons-y! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N okay so I continued it! This is John taking Sherlock back to the campsite. **

**Beta'd by: Whovian 1.0**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, I don't think I would survive a day owning Sherlock, because then I would die as soon as Martin and Benny came on set. **

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Greg stepped back, admiring his work, he had finally finished hammering the final stake, smiling he turned to head to the lorry and stopped as he saw John trudge back into the site, mud coating his clothes, pulling on a long blue scarf attached to something behind him, "John? What happened?" he asked, suppressing laughter.

John glared at him, "I fell." He bit out, "Also, you know how you brought me out here to forget about Sherlock?" John tugged on the scarf, and Sherlock stumbled out of the forest, holding his nose, with a hedgehog poking its nose out of his pocket.

Greg's mouth dropped open, "You son of a bitch." He said.

Sherlock looked up, "hello Graham." He said, his tone light as though he hadn't just spent the last several months dead.

"It's Greg."

"Sorry."

"Why do you have a hedgehog in your pocket?"

"It's his pet." John responded for him, pulling Sherlock farther into the camp site.

"His pet?" Greg asked, looking at them quizzically.

"I really love how both of you are more concerned about the hedgehog, than about how I'm alive." Sherlock said.

"Well I am curious, but I thought I would go with the simple question first. Why you have a hedgehog is much simpler than, per say you surviving a fall from the top of Barts." John told him.

"Well it took many complicated-"

"Sherlock." John and Greg both said, "Shut up."

~~~two weeks later 221B~~~

"John, did you pick up the milk?" Sherlock asked, not taking his eyes off of the small cage on the table in front of him.

John sighed walking in, "No Sherlock! It's your turn to get the milk!"

"I asked you to pick it up." Sherlock replied.

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did. About an hour ago."

"I wasn't here an hour ago."

"Oh. I just took your silence as agreement."

John sighed and walked to the kitchen, "Sherlock. Why did we even get the cage?" he asked walking back in, holding Jawn the Hedgehog.

"I have no idea why you got the cage. But I never agreed to put him in it."

"Sherlock…" John said, not even attempting to hide his frustration as he opened the cage and put the hedgehog into it. He looked like he was about to say something else, but shook his head and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Sherlock opened the cage, and took Jawn out, holding him up, "Sorry about that Jawn."

"It's alright Sherlock, you didn't put me in there."

Sherlock's eyes widened, "You can talk? John! Come quick! It can talk!"

"No it can't Sherlock." Came John's voice from the end of the hall.

"This will be our little secret Sherlock."

"Yes Jawn." Sherlock said, smiling.

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**Please review! **

**Deductions for all of my brilliantly fantastic readers, until next time. Allons-y! **


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